[ why is he all the way over here when juno is all the way over there. peter's not sure what's keeping him rooting to the spot just behind the door, pressing at it with his palm lightly until the jamb and the edge of it meet just barely. juno's right eye is taped over, the left, blown wide, and peter isn't sure whether to breathe out or breathe in or laugh or cry because there's something overwhelming building up between his shoulders.
god they'd gotten into some kind of mess. whatever mess, he isn't sure. it's vague, like grasping in the dark, rooting around and the only thing he's got is the distinct feeling of being sunburnt hot underneath his skin like a leftover fever and the sight of juno with his right eye gauzed and hooked up to a drip and... ]
I almost... [ wrote my name. my real name. the one i'm not supposed to tell anyone. i can't tell anyone. he shakes the rest of the sentence off, moving forward and navigating the short distance from door to footboard to bed. it feels like miles when it's only steps and when he sits down on the edge of the bed, he's pretty sure he isn't planning on getting up again, at least not without some help or leverage of some kind. ] It's my name, Juno. [ a breath. he'll have to talk about this when he's more lucid. he glances at the iv line once more and frowns, adjusting himself a bit closer as he follows the tube downwards and downward and...
there among the sheets are juno's hands and peter immediately scoops them up into his own, stark, pale fingers sliding against roughed up knuckles, though he takes enough care not to jostle the needles that look like they've been painstakingly stuck through him until they found some kind of give in his veins. peter holds them a beat more, smoothing his fingers just beneath the divots of the lines etched into juno's palms slowly, feeling them so the sensation will maybe etch itself good and proper into his own skin.
he looks juno square in the eye after a few seconds of this, breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out, before he very slightly squeezes his fingers. he looks up at the iv bag again, squinting some more. eugh. ] Sounds like they have you on quite the cocktail, don't they?
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god they'd gotten into some kind of mess. whatever mess, he isn't sure. it's vague, like grasping in the dark, rooting around and the only thing he's got is the distinct feeling of being sunburnt hot underneath his skin like a leftover fever and the sight of juno with his right eye gauzed and hooked up to a drip and... ]
I almost... [ wrote my name. my real name. the one i'm not supposed to tell anyone. i can't tell anyone. he shakes the rest of the sentence off, moving forward and navigating the short distance from door to footboard to bed. it feels like miles when it's only steps and when he sits down on the edge of the bed, he's pretty sure he isn't planning on getting up again, at least not without some help or leverage of some kind. ] It's my name, Juno. [ a breath. he'll have to talk about this when he's more lucid. he glances at the iv line once more and frowns, adjusting himself a bit closer as he follows the tube downwards and downward and...
there among the sheets are juno's hands and peter immediately scoops them up into his own, stark, pale fingers sliding against roughed up knuckles, though he takes enough care not to jostle the needles that look like they've been painstakingly stuck through him until they found some kind of give in his veins. peter holds them a beat more, smoothing his fingers just beneath the divots of the lines etched into juno's palms slowly, feeling them so the sensation will maybe etch itself good and proper into his own skin.
he looks juno square in the eye after a few seconds of this, breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out, before he very slightly squeezes his fingers. he looks up at the iv bag again, squinting some more. eugh. ] Sounds like they have you on quite the cocktail, don't they?